


Breaking Point

by MissBarbieAnne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Comfort, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Self Harm, Suicide, abuse tw, major warning, self harm tw, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBarbieAnne/pseuds/MissBarbieAnne
Summary: TRIGGER WARNINGSPROCEED WITH CAUTIONDO NOT CONTINUE IF EASILY TRIGGEREDSummer after Senior Year, before Benson and Loghan go to college.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Major Warnings: Self-Harm, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Suicide

**Loghan’s POV**

 

Some days were better than others, and some days were so close to normal, I almost forgot that we were anything but. Some days, I woke up and Dad was cooking bacon and drinking coffee, and we ate breakfast together and made small talk before we started our day. On those days, I had a small glimmer of hope that he was turning back into the father he used to be. I always hoped, even when it blew up in my face.

This morning had been a good one. Dad made bacon and eggs, and we ate together at the table. He had not drunk the last couple nights, and I had the fleeting thought that maybe he was turning a new leaf.

“So, kiddo. Have you chosen a college?” He asked through a mouthful of eggs, and I glanced up at him from my own plate.

“Well…” I chewed slowly. “I was offered a scholarship to Oregon State because of my Cross-Country times. They offered me a full ride if I run for them.”

“Isn’t that in Corvallis?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He sipped at his coffee thoughtfully, staring at me over the top of the mug. “You want to go away for college then?”

I shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable by the way he was watching me. “It’s an option. I mean, it’s free school.”

There was a moment of silence before he picked up his plate from the table. He set it in the sink, then turned to walk out of the kitchen.

“Whatever you wanna do, kid.”

His words were not threatening, but they still left me feeling uneasy.

 

I left for work later in the afternoon, and his car was gone. I didn’t think much of it and headed down to the bus stop.

I got home just after 1:30 in the morning. The ten hours shift left my feet sore, and all I wanted to do was go to bed.

I slipped off my work shirt and slacks, keeping on my tank-top and pulling on a pair of shorts before heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Dad was standing at the counter with his back to me.

“Hey, Dad,” I greeted him, opening the cabinet door to grab a cup.

He startled, then whipped around to face me. I noticed the glass filled with amber liquid in his hand and my stomach dropped.

“Why are you home so late?” He growled, glancing over at the clock above the stove.

“I had to work,” I met his gaze, reaching over to turn on the tap. “I got off at one.”

He scoffed. “Yeah? Can you prove it?”

I gaped at him. “You can call my supervisor and she will tell you I was there.”

“Now listen here, smartass,” He lowered his voice, and I flinched. “You never use that tone with me. _Ever_.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m just… going to go to bed.”

“Wait.”

I turned around. His posture had changed. Something about him was… different.

It made my blood turn to ice.

“I’m sorry for snapping, sweetie,” he cooed, opening his arms. “Come give me a hug.”

I hesitated, and he lowered his eyes.

“Come give your Dad a hug, Loghan.”

I obeyed, walking over and allowing him to wrap him arms around me. The stench of alcohol was overwhelming.

“I love you, baby girl,” He stroked a hand down my hair, and I immediately wanted to push away from him. He was too close. This was not normal.

His hands started to travel down my back, and I tried to squirm away. He held on tighter.

I felt his hand grab onto my ass, and I didn’t stop myself. I pushed away from him and slipped out of his grip.

But I didn’t get far.

He grabbed my hair, pulling me back. He wrapped his other hand around my neck, forcing me to stare into his eyes.

“Don’t you _ever_ pull that shit again.”

I swallowed hard, giving him a slight nod. He released his grip ad I gasped for breath.

He stood there for a minute, not doing anything, just looking at me. It felt like a predator staring at its prey.

“You sure grew up pretty,” He smiled, and I wanted to bolt. I wanted to bolt so bad, but I was so scared.

“Thank you,” I could not meet his eyes.

He began to come closer, and I instinctively backed away. He grabbed the front of my tank, pulling me against him again before I could escape.

He turned, and I was stuck between the counter and him.

Tears welled up in my eyes as he began to touch me.

This could not be happening. This had never happened before.

_Why_ was this happening?

I tried to ignore it, to block him out. His hands got lower, and I bit my lip.

Lower, lower…

Until he was grabbing my shorts.

I had had enough.

I lifted a knee and hit him at hard as I could in the groin. He ripped his hand back so fast, my shorts ripped, but I did not even care.

He was distracted long enough that I had a chance to run. I ran as fast as I could down the hall, aware that he was right behind me. I managed to slip into my room and slam the door shut. The lock was turned, but I was not sure if the hinges were going to hold. I watched the door shake each time he pounded on it, and my heart beat hard against my chest as panic raced through my veins. My back was pressed against the door, and each time he hit it, my body jolted.

I needed to hide. The instinct to hide away was still there from when I was a child, when I would hide under my bed or in the closet whenever he started drinking.

I inched over to my closet, trying my best to squeeze my small frame into the corner amongst the clothes. It had been a lot easier when I was younger, but I still managed to press myself into the corner, pulling my knees against my chest and trying to calm my rapid breathing.

I listened as he continued to push and kick at my door, and I could just imagine the wood splintering and him pulling me out from the closet. He would kill me, I was sure of it. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my forehead against my knees, letting the tears drip down my cheeks and off my chin. I hated this. I hated him. I hated the constant fear. I hated always wondering what was going to happen this time, or the next time. I hated never knowing how far he was going to go. When was he finally going to go too far?

It needed to end, and I knew there was only two ways that would happen. Either he died, or I did.

 

Eventually, the pounding stopped and there was silence. He either gave up or passed out, but I was too scared to open up the door to check. I crawled out of the closet, my joints stiff from being curled up for so long. A strange calm had taken over me, and I was no longer crying, and my breaths were slow and even. I knew of a way out; this way, I finally had control over the one thing that had controlled my life for over ten years. I finally had the wheel, and I was ready to take this last turn.

Rummaging through my drawer, I found my blade, tucked under the socks like it always had been. It looked somewhat different, now that it was going to serve a new purpose to me. It was no longer going to bring me back to reality; it was going to take me away.

I was relieved when I found the open bottle of sleeping bills on my nightstand, the ones I used when I was fear kept me from sleeping. It was still over halfway full, and the thought of just falling asleep was comforting.

I sat crisscross on my bed, my back pressed against the wall. The blade laid on my leg, glinting in the light, waiting for me to pick it up. But I wasn’t ready yet. I had one more thing to take care of.

Benson.

He had to know why I had chosen to do this. He might not understand, but he deserved to have an explanation. This was going to hurt him, but in time, he would realize it was for the best. He deserved to be with someone better, someone who was not broken inside, someone who did not need repairs and whose closet was void of skeletons. He deserved someone who was whole, and I was shattered.

My hands shook at I typed out the message, and I felt a lump form in my throat. I hated what I was going to do to him, but I was positive he would be okay. This would not break him. He would survive this and be better off because of it. I was doing him a favor, and he would come to see it as such.

I glanced at the time, making sure he would be asleep. He could read it in the morning, when it would finally be over. I hit send, and then tipped the bottle into my mouth, washing the small blue pills down with a stale water bottle.

The blade felt comfortable in my grip, and when I pressed it to the spot under my elbow, it glided down as if it was being guided by some other force. It made a clean line straight down, connecting my elbow to my palm. The blood started dripping immediately, before quickening to a steady gush that ran off my arm and began to pool in the blankets. I watched for a moment, mesmerized by the way the crimson liquid flowed down my arm, creating art on my skin like as if it were a canvas.

Then I lifted the blade and did the same thing on the other side.

My eyes began to droop, and I dropped the blade beside me and leaned back, letting a wave of calm wash over me.

This was it.

I was finally free.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Benson’s POV**

 

It was very unusual for my phone to wake me up during the night. The small vibration that signaled a new text message was usually quiet enough to not disturb me, but for some reason, the sound caused me to snap awake.

I blinked a few times to let my eyes adjust to the dimness. Sleep was threatening to pull me under again, but I reached for my phone anyway with the intention to check the time. After noting it was almost three in the morning, I decided a message sent this late was likely important.

My eyes began to adjust to my phone’s glare, and I squinted at the screen to see who had sent the message. It took me a couple tries, but I finally made out Loghan’s name.

 _Loghan_.

I sat upright in an instant, clicking on the lamp on my nightstand and quickly typing in my password to open the message.

Something was wrong; I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.

I pulled up the message and started to read.

[ _Benson,_

_I want to start off by telling you how much I love you. I love you so much, I do not even know how to put it into words. This last year has been the best of my life, and I would not change it for anything. I hope you feel the same.]_

A smile crept on my lips, tugging up the corners and making my cheeks dimple. God, I loved her.

_[I also hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do.]_

My smile fell, and my grip on the phone tightened.

 _[You have been my sunshine in this dark life, and I love you so much for it. But I cannot darken your shine_ _any longer. I cannot be the reason your light goes out. I want you to remain innocent. I cannot bear to watch as you realize how messed up I really am. How messed up everything is. There are no words to describe what I have been through, and even if there were, I would not share them with you. I want you to remember me as the girl I was when I was with you. Whole and happy and carefree. Not like the girl I really am, the girl who is broken and damaged and tainted. That is not how I want to be remembered.]_

My chest shook with each heartbeat, and my breath felt like it was caught in my throat.  
What was she talking about?

My finger shook as I scrolled through the message, and my eyes were burning as they filled with tears.

I was terrified. I did not want to read the end of the message, because I knew what she was about to say. What she was about to do.

_[I do not want you to hate me for this. I am doing this for you as well as for me. You deserve someone better, someone who will fill your life with joy. Someone who is whole and full of life. You deserve better, Benson, and I just cannot give you what you deserve._

_And for me? I am ready to be free. I am ready to leave this life behind, along with all the pain and suffering that comes with it. You were the best thing to happen to me, and I am very sorry for hurting you in this way. Just remember that this is for the best._

_I love you with all my heart, Benson. Goodbye, my love.]_

I was throwing my covers off my bed as soon as I read the last word. In just my boxers, I slipped on a pair of slippers and raced down the stairs, skipping every three steps until I was throwing the door open and running to my truck.

My whole body was shaking as I drove through the neighborhood, going forty down the side streets before pulling in front of her house after just two minutes of driving.

_Please don’t let me be too late._

I tested the front door and was surprised to find it unlocked. As quietly as I could, I tiptoed down the hall. My heart was beating so hard, I was convinced the neighbors could hear it.

I reached Logan’s door, and when the knob wouldn’t turn, I wanted to scream. Of course, it was locked. She didn’t want anyone to find her.

I could hear snoring in the other bedroom, and the last thing I wanted to do was wake up her father. I tried to knock softly, but that didn’t work.

“Loghan?” I whispered, hoping she would respond, praying she would open the door. But there was no reply.

I already had 911 dialed on my phone, and I was just waiting to press the button.

I sucked in a breath, then backed up.

_3… 2… 1!_

I rammed my shoulder into the door, shocked when it easily caved and broke off the hinges.

Either it was really old, or someone had already weakened it.

My shoulder was aching, but I did not have time to recover. I spotted her immediately, and all the color had drained from my face.

She looked so peaceful, with her pale face and long lashes, her lips so perfect. She looked like a porcelain doll, and if I didn’t know any better, I would assume she was just sleeping.

As soon as I looked closer, the façade totally vanished. I saw the blood that was stained into her blankets, soaked into the sheets. The cuts on her arms were deep, and they were straight up and down. She knew what she had been doing. She had made these cuts with the intent of taking her own life.

I was so scared to check for a pulse, terrified I wouldn’t find one. I picked up her wrist gently in my hand, pressing my fingers against where her pulse should be. I watched her chest, praying it would raise as she took a breath.

_Breathe… Loghan, breathe, please…_

After several seconds, I finally felt her pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there.

Her chest rose with a shallow breath right after, so weak I almost missed it.

_She’s alive! Oh my God, she’s alive… I wasn’t too late._

I quickly hit the call button for 911, putting it on speaker as I pressed my hands against her arms to try and stop the bleeding. I could feel the warm liquid seeping out from under my hands, but I kept my grip firm.

“911, what is your emergency?”

I jumped slightly when I heard the operator’s voice.

“We need an ambulance, right now!” I struggled to keep my voice steady.

“Sir, what is the situation? Explain to me what happened.”

“My girlfriend…” I took in a deep breath; saying it was making it so much worse. “She cut her wrists.”

“Has she lost a lot of blood?”

“Y-Yes…”

“I am dispatching am ambulance to your location now. Sir, can you explain to me her condition? Is she alert?”

I looked up at her face, noticing how her lips were starting to turn blue, her breathing so slow and shallow I could barely detect it.

“No… no, she is unconscious and barely breathing. I… I am trying to stop the bleeding, but she isn’t breathing. I don’t know what to do!”

“Sir, try to keep calm. Do you know if she took anything?”

“I… I don’t know,” I glanced around the room before my eyes fell on the bottle of sleeping pills on her nightstand. “She might have taken some sleeping pills.”

I focused on counting her breaths, waiting for her chest to raise and fall. There was muffled talking on her side as the operator updated the ambulance.

I waited for Loghan’s chest to raise again, but this time, it remained still.

“Oh God,” I sobbed. “She stopped breathing!”

“Sir, listen,” the operator came back onto the line. “The ambulance it still five minutes out. You need to give her rescue breaths, do you understand? Do you know how to do those?”

I nodded before realizing she couldn’t see me. “Y-Yes… I learned in CPR class.”

“Okay, you need to breathe for her, okay? Until the ambulance gets there.”

I removed my hands from her arms, watching as the blood continued to trickle across her skin.

Kneeling beside her on the bed, I tilted her head back, leaving streaks of blood on her face. Her lips were cold against my own. I filled her lungs with my breath, counted to five, and did it again. Over and over again, keeping her alive until I saw the red and blue lights flashing outside.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5._

Breathe.

_Please hurry._

She was so still under my hands, so lifeless.

Like she was dead.

I pushed the thought out of my head and counted again.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5._

Breathe.   

 

 

One minute, I was standing in Loghan’s bedroom, staring at the mess that remained after they took her away. The blood that was soaked into her sheets, the drops that glistened on the floor, the bloody gauze that was left behind. They had taken the razor blade and the pill bottle with them to use as evidence for what had happened.

Her father was still snoring in the other room, oblivious to what had just occurred.

The next minute, I was sitting in a chair in the waiting room. The hospital had given me a pair of paper scrubs and gripper socks; I did my best to wash her blood off of me in the bathroom. _Her_ _blood_.

I had to fight back a sob at the thought.

Even after cleaning up, I could still feel it. I could feel the warmth of it as it touched my skin, as well as the stickiness at it dried. I kept glancing down and trying to rub it away, but most of the blood was gone. It was all in my head.

Hours had gone by, but it felt like seconds. I kept rereading the text she had sent me, going over the events of the past couple days, trying to piece together what had happened. Everything had seemed so normal. I had not seen her the day before, because she was working, but just the other day, we had gone to a movie. We went and got ice cream. She was laughing. She seemed the happiest she had been in months.

We were supposed to be moving in a month. School would be starting in September. We were both accepted to Oregon State; she got a scholarship. She had been glowing with pride, and I could not help but stare at her and wonder how I had gotten so lucky. She was so damn beautiful, and intelligent, and amazing, and perfect.

Why could she not see it?

Why did she not believe me when I said she would always be enough?

She said I did not deserve someone like her, that I deserved better. That I deserved someone who would bring joy to my life. How could she say that, when no one I had met or would ever meet would ever bring me as much happiness as she did? No one would ever be good enough. No one would ever be her.

There would never be another Loghan.

She had told me she was broken. That day at the Saturday Market, the day I found out she cut herself. She tried to leave then, but I would not let her. I had told her I loved her, that she was my everything. She was _still_ my everything, but she believed she can be replaced.

I needed to know why she felt that way. Who made her believe she was nothing?

_I want you to remain innocent. I cannot bear to watch as you realize how messed up I really am. How messed up everything is._

_I am ready to be free. I am ready to leave this life behind, along with all the pain and suffering that comes with it._

Those words were engrained in my mind, and I kept going over them again and again, trying to make sense of them. Who made her feel so worthless, so broken, so terrified to continue living?

Someone had done this to her. Someone had led her to this decision, and my blood began to boil at just the thought of someone touching her in any way. Someone beating her down and telling her she was worthless.

I had always known something was different about her. The way she was so cautious around everyone and the way she withdrew into herself whenever someone questioned her about the bruises she tried so hard to hide. The forced smiles and fake laughter. The way her eyes didn’t quite light up the same way the day I noticed new bruises or marks. The relief on her face when I did not push her to give me details.

I should have pushed.

Maybe then, we would not be here right now.

I had my suspicions. I had a feeling I knew who was responsible, and the thought of taking her back to him made me feel nauseous.

But that all depended on one thing.

 _If_ she pulled through.

 _If_ I even got the chance to see her again. The chance to hold her hand, or kiss her lips, or stare into her blue eyes and lose myself in them all over again.

The chance to make her laugh or watch as her smile caused her left cheek to dimple. The chance to talk to her about everything, the chance to make her realize how much I loved her. How much I really, truly am in love with her.

I am in love with her.

I am madly in love with her, and I might lose her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Benson's POV**

 

It was just after eight in the morning when a gentle hand tapped my shoulder. I had closed my eyes with my head resting on my shoulder, but the second I felt the touch, I jumped.

The nurse stepped back, out of range in case I tried to hit.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The nurse just nodded before stepping back beside me. “Are you here for Loghan Farren?”

Hearing her name cleared my head of any remaining fogginess. I turned my head towards her, meeting her eyes. I tried to read her face, looking for any indication if the news she was bearing was bad. Her face was a carefully trained neutral.

“Yes,” I forced out, forcing down the lump that had formed in my throat. “I’m her boyfriend. Benson Grant.”

“Benson, my name is Diane. Are you the one that called 911?”

I nodded. “Yes. I… I found her.”

“We can usually only discuss medical information with family members, but she has you listed as her emergency contact.”

I paused for a minute, before speaking. “She does?”

Diane stared at me for a moment before responding. “You did not know?”

I shook my head, but it made sense. Who else could she rely on to be there when she needed them?

“Well, she put you and only you down, and had given us permission to share information with you in the circumstance that an emergency would happen. It looks like she put you down… almost a year ago as her last visit with her Primary Doctor.”

Almost a year ago. Just shortly after we started dating.

She either put me down because she trusted me, or because she did not have anyone else to use.

I did not want to think about _why_ she had been to the doctor in the first place.

“I would like to take you back to a private room to speak with you.” Diane said, bringing my thoughts back to the present. “The waiting room is not a good place to talk about her situation.”

My stomach dropped, but I still stood up and followed her.

I walked behind Diane, but it was like someone else was controlling my body. I felt like a robot, just following her blindly through the halls and doors that opened with just a wave of her badge.

She took me into the elevator and up to a different floor, before directing me into an empty room and closing the door.

I sat down and folded my hands to try and hide how badly they were shaking. I could feel the color run from my face as I watched her, waiting for her to tell me the one thing I feared.

That I was too late.

Loghan was dead.

“Benson,” Diane began, and I leaned closer.

“Loghan is hanging in there.”

A wave of relief rushed over me, and I felt my body physically relax.

“She has pulled through, but she is still very critical. She lost nearly two liters of blood and went into Hypovolemic Shock*. We started her on fluids and were required to give her four units of blood as well before we were able to stop the bleeding. We did manage to get the bleeding under control and close the wounds, which is good.”

The way her tone wavered made me feel uneasy. If the bleeding was under control, why was she still so critical?

“Unfortunately,” Diane continued, and I braced myself for whatever she was about to say.

“It is very common when giving a patient so much fluids for it to buildup. She was doing well… until she wasn’t.”

“What happened?” I managed to slip the question out, feeling my heart pound against my ribcage.

“The fluid backed into her lungs. We started her on a diuretic* and inserted a catheter, and her output has been good. Her Creatinine* is a little high, but not critical. We are watching her closely, but we are worried about her kidneys. We are also monitoring her liver because of the sleeping pills she took. We were not able to pump her stomach initially, but we do have a tube going into her stomach now to try and suction anything that might still be in here.”

I nodded, waiting for all the information to process. Lungs, kidneys, liver… all three had a good chance of shutting down.

She still might not make it.

Diane must have read my thoughts on my face. Her eyes softened, and she placed a hand on my back.

“We are watching her very closely, Benson. She is in the ICU, and we have our best nurses on her case. You are welcome to go in and see her, but you need to be prepared. We have her on a ventilator and several IVs, as well as the NG tube*. It might be a lot to handle.”

“I can handle it,” I stated without missing a beat.

I did not care how many tubes she had coming out of her, or how many monitors were beeping.

As long as I could watch her chest rise and fall and know she was still alive.   
That was all that mattered.

 

 

No matter how much I mentally prepared myself, I still was not ready when I walked into the room.

I was not lying when I said I could handle it, but _God_ , it was a lot to handle.

Loghan was barely even visible under everything. Her arms were bandaged above her elbows with IVs taped on each hand. Her eyes were taped shut, the NG tube was taped onto her nose, and the ED tube* was secured onto her face. The only part of her face I could see were her lips, and they were exactly how I remembered them, and I clung onto that one simple thing.

Her chest rose and fell with the ventilator. I was almost hoping to see her fighting it and trying to rip it out, but she was still as stone. They had told me they were giving her medicine to keep her still in order to give her body time to heal, but I had still hung onto that hope. Now, I realized how close to losing her I still was.

I sat down in the chair Diane had brought over. I was given permission to hold her hand, just as long as I was careful. As I picked it up, I realized how swollen it was, which was just proof of how much fluid she was still retaining. Her limbs were puffy, and her stomach was bloated, and it took all I had not to breakdown.

I could not break down. Not here and not now. Not when she needed me to be strong.

I held her hand, and I only let go when the nurses need to access her IV.

Occasionally, they would ask me to leave, and I would take the opportunity to use the restroom or grab a snack from the vending machine. At one point, I tracked down my Dad during his shift to let him know why I had not been at home. My phone had been dead since that morning.

He had been furious until I told him what had happened.

That was the only time I allowed myself to cry.

 

Hour by hour, I watched. I watched as they drew labs and changed IV fluids and administered different medications. I watched as they emptied her catheter bag and turned on the suction for her NG tube and rotated which side the ED tube was resting on. I watched as they turned her from side to side, relieving the pressure every couple hour to prevent sores from forming. I watched as they changed the dressing on her arms, having to look away when I noticed how many sutures it had taken to close the cuts.

Two days passed, and then, I began to witness something new.

I watched as her swelling gradually went down, and her hands looked more like the hands I had held before.

I watched as they removed the NG tube, removing the tape from her nose. As soon as they left, I leaned down and kissed it.

I watched as they weaned her off the paralytics, and suddenly the ventilator was alarming as she began to fight again it. At the end of the third day, they removed it and removed the tape from her eyes. Her eyes remained closed, but she was finally breathing on her own.

I watched the next day as they weaned her off the sedation, and her eyes fluttered open for the first time in days. They darted around the room before finally landing on me.

I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

I had watched them bring her back to life.

She was alive. She was here.

She was here.

Loghan was here. Loghan was breathing.

Loghan was _alive_.

I had not been too late.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Loghan’s POV**

 

It felt like coming out of water; that moment when your head breaks the surface and you are met with light and finally take in that deep breath of fresh air. I felt lighter as everything that had been weighing me down was removed. Little by little, I grew stronger until I was finally able to open my eyes and move my muscles.

Benson was there; I had known he was there all along. I could feel the way his hand gripped mine and I wanted so badly to call out to him, but I had not been able to move. I had been trapped in my body and one thing kept passing my mind.

_Why am I not dead?_

When I was finally able to open my eyes, I looked for him. I wanted him to know how sorry I was. I never wanted it to come to this. I never wanted any of this to happen. I was not supposed to be here. I was not supposed to be alive.

I had never wanted to be saved.

 

 

The day after I woke up, I was transported to the Post-Critical floor.

I wanted so badly to talk to Benson, now that the room was a bit more private. We no longer had nurses coming in every few minutes to check on me, or to check my vitals, or to make sure I was not going to try and wrap my IV tubing around my neck.

I tried to talk, but my voice was so weak from the ED tube, and my throat was so sore.

Benson stayed by my side the entire time, but when he had to leave for any reason, someone replaced him.

Apparently, I was not allowed to be alone.

Benson filled the silence with his own words. He told me how much he loved me. He recalled his favorite memories, retold them from his perspective. He tried to get me to smile, but a small turn of my lips was all I could manage.

When he was not talking, he turned on the TV, playing whatever mindless sitcom he could find and letting the fake laughter fill the room.

I knew what he was doing. He was avoiding the subject, tiptoeing around me, trying to distract me and get my mind off the reason I was here in the first place.

The thing is, it was all I could think about.

Most suicide survivors say they feel relief when their attempt fails. They realize they did not want to die after all.

I wish I could say I felt the same, but all I felt was fear. I was terrified of going home and having to face my father all over again. What had happened, when he saw the blood? It had been days since he had seen me… had he tried to find me? What would I be going home to? I was afraid of what would happen to me.

I could not help but wish I had not woken up at all.

 

It was my second day on Post-Critical that he showed up. I thought I was dreaming, but I could recognize that voice anywhere.

It was early, and I was still dozing. Benson was sleeping on the couch, unbothered by the commotion that was happening by the Nurse’s Station.

“Sir, I cannot disclose medical information to anyone that does not have authorization,” the nurse was explaining to a visitor. His loud voice had me fully awake.

“Loghan Farren. She is my daughter. Just tell me which room she is in.”

My blood turned to ice. I pressed myself against the bed, holding my breath and begging him to leave.

_Go away, go away, please… just leave._

“I am prohibited from sharing any information with you, sir. I do apologize, but at this time, I cannot help you.”

“Ma’am,” His voice was getting louder, and his shadow came into view just outside my door. “She is my daughter. I have the right to know which room she is in. I will talk to her and straighten all of this out.”

“If your daughter is on this floor, and I am prohibited from even sharing that information, she has to be over eighteen because anyone under is sent to Pediatrics. Patients over eighteen have a right over who has access to their medical information. If your name is not listed under those who have access, it is against the law for me to share any information with you.” The nurse’s voice was well rehearsed as she responded. Her tone was well-calculated. She had dealt with this situation before. “Now, I must ask you to leave, or I will be forced to call security. Do I make myself clear?”

There was silence. I was so focused on what was going on outside, I had not notice Benson had woken up. He came over to the bed and placed his hand on my arm, and I nearly jumped off the mattress.

“You’re shaking,” He whispered, running his hand up and down my arm.

I hadn’t noticed until then that my entire body was trembling as adrenaline raced through my veins.

All my father had to do was walk in here, and he would find me.

Benson followed my line of sight, pressing his lips together. I clung onto his arm, my eyes wide with fear as I waited to see what my father would say.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he just left.

I let out the breath I had been holding.

Thank God I changed my Emergency Contacts that last time I went to the clinic. If I had not removed him from the list, they would have told him where I was. He would have found me, and who knows what would have happened. Maybe nothing would happen today, or tomorrow, but later? The unknown was terrifying. 

A chill ran down my spine at the thought.

Only a few minutes had passed when the nurse came into the room. I recognized her face, remembering her name. Ellen.

“Loghan, your father was just here to see you,” she said, coming over to stand at the foot of my bed. “Do you want us to call him and have him come back?”

I shook my head, maybe a little too fast. “No, no… it’s fine.”

Ellen gave me a suspicious look, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Do you want him to know you are here?”

I held her gaze before shaking my head again. “No… I really don’t.”

She nodded before excusing herself, leaving just me and Benson.

There was a long silence before he turned to look at me. He took my hand in his, interlacing our fingers.

“Loghan…” He spoke my name softly, staring down at our hands. “What happened that night?”

I worried my bottom lip, focusing on the wrinkles in the sheets.

“I…” I started, but I could not find the words. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

His touch was gentle as he caressed my cheek, turning my head to face him.

“Please. I don’t understand… I just want to know why.”

_Why?_

Where would I even begin?

“You will never understand,” I murmured, averting my eyes. I could not meet his gaze.

“Help me to.”

I pushed his hand away from my cheek and ripped my fingers from his. Turning, I sat myself on the edge of the bed, my back to him. I balled up my gown in my fists, feeling the hot tears run down my face.

“Why didn’t you let me die?” I sobbed, pressing a hand over my lips.

“I love you.” I felt the bed dip as he sat down on the other side, and I could feel his eyes on my back.

“If you really loved me, you would have let me die.”

He was silent before quietly responding. “How can you believe that is true, Loghan?”

I shook my head, choking back another sob. “I have to go back now.”

“Back where? I don’t understand”

I whipped around to face him, letting the tears freely roll down my red-splotched face. “I have to go back to _him_ , Benson! I wanted to die so I never had to go back! Don’t you see? I said I wanted to be free, and I was so close. I was so close…”

“But then I saved you…”

“I want to be free, Benson. Why couldn’t you let me go? It would be better for _both_ of us! You don’t deserve _this_ ,” I vaguely waved to the hospital room. “You don’t deserve this mess, Benson. You are better than this.”

“Stop right there, Loghan,” He snapped. “Do not even start with that. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, mess and all, and I do not give a single _fuck_ about how broken or messy or damaged you _think_ you are.”

“But--”

“I’m not done,” He cut me off. “When I read your text, I felt a part of me die. I was terrified that I had lost you forever. If you had died… I would have died too. Maybe not physically, but you would have taken everything from me. My whole will to live. I do not want to live in a world that you no longer exist in.

“I do not know what has made you think you are so undeserving of love. I do not know what drove you to think this was your only option. I think I have an idea… but Loghan. I want you to tell me _why_. What are you trying to escape from?”

I watched at his eyes began to fill with tears, and he tried to blink them back.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, and I just sat there, eyes locked on his and let silence fill the room.

There was nothing to lose, not anymore. If what he was saying was true, and he honestly did not care, then he should know. It would be the only way to know whether or not he was being honest. Whether or not he would see me any different.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeated, watching me skeptically.

“Here… lay with me,” I patted the spot beside me, and Benson leaned back against the pillows as I curled up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close as I pressed my face against his neck.

And I told him.

I told him about my father, and how he had been a good dad before he started drinking.

I told him about how the alcohol changed him.

I told him about the hands that were too rough, the pushing, the bruises.

I told him about the cruel words and harsh punishments.

I told him about the fear, the constant wondering of when things would go too far.

I told him what happened that night.

The night I felt like I had nowhere left to turn.

We both cried, tangled together on that hospital bed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my face pressed into his shirt.

“For what, my love?”

“For bringing you into this… disaster. I’m sorry you fell in love with me.”

He shushed me, pressing his lips against my hair. “Oh, no, no, no. You are the light of my life, Loghan, broken pieces and all. I would not change a single thing about you.”

I sniffed, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then I will prove it to you every day for the rest of my life.”

Maybe he would. Maybe one day, I would realize he had been honest this whole time and keeping the abuse a secret had been for nothing. Maybe he loved me so much, that none of this mattered.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself even closer against him.

“Promise me something,” I whispered, my lips teasing the skin on his jawline.

“Anything,” He breathed, his fingers wrapped in my hair.

“Don’t tell anyone,” My voice shook. “Please.”

He was quiet, and I felt how his jaw clenched.

“Loghan…”

“Please, Benson. You can’t tell. I can’t… I can’t go through all of that.”

He let out a long sigh, and my head rose and fell with his chest. “Okay, I won’t. But if he ever touches you again… I don’t know what I will do.”

My fingers played with the hem of his shirt. I hadn’t realized I had been silent for so long until he nudged me gently.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 _I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again_ , I wanted to say. I was here, and I was alive. I was getting better. My arms were healing, despite the scar tissue that would forever run up my forearms. I was better and because of that, I would be sent home. I could not hide in this hospital forever.

“I am going to have to go back home, Benson.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Where else am I supposed to go?” I said. “I can’t stay here. And I can’t run from him and I can’t hide. Trust me.”

His arms wrapped tightly around me, as if them alone could shield me. I could hear his heart thumping against my ear, and I tuned into it, holding onto the gentle thump. My own heartbeat began to sync up and I felt myself begin to relax.

“You don’t have to go back,” He spoke gently into my ear, his lips brushing against the skin. “Come stay with me until school starts.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”

“I already talked to my Dad.”

“You did not…”

Benson shrugged. “He works here, Loghan. I haven’t been home more than twenty minutes for the past week. I had to tell him something.”

I wanted to be angry, but I didn’t have the strength to fuel the fire. I just deflated against him, wiping my face against his shirt as the tears started to flow again. How much had he told his father? I knew Benson was only doing what he thought was best, but I did not want anyone to know what I had done. I could already feel the judging eyes, and I did not want to hear their opinions or their input regarding what I had tried to do.

But it was _Benson’s_ family. When had they ever judged me? I had only ever been welcomed with open arms and warm hugs, homemade meals and sweet treats. They treated me like… like I was one of them. Like I was _family._

It was then I realized that, just maybe, staying with them would not be as bad as I had thought. It would be a nice change to feel like I was a part of a real family. One that had two parents, and siblings, who all loved each other. Not one parent who was always one drink away from turning into a monster.

Benson had been rubbing a hand up and down my back, and the soothing motion was slowly lulling me to sleep. I was now acutely aware of the exhaustion settling into my bones, and I felt how Benson’s body was becoming heavy, his breathing slowing down as he, too, began to fall asleep.

I decided the rest of the conversation could wait until later. Right now, I wanted to focus on this. Me. Benson. His strong hand on my back. My arms wrapped around his torso, my head buried in his shirt. Our legs, tangled up at the end of the bed.

Just me and him. Together.

And for the first time since waking up, I was happy he had saved me.

Because now, I was alive, and I was with him, and I was happy, and it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> *Hypovolemic Shock: a life-threatening condition that results when you lose more than 20  
> percent (~1-2 liters) of your body's blood or fluid supply. This severe fluid loss makes it impossible for the heart to pump a sufficient amount of blood to your body.
> 
> * Creatinine: Elevated creatinine level signifies impaired kidney function or kidney disease. As the kidneys become impaired for any reason, the creatinine level in the blood will rise due to poor clearance of creatinine by the kidneys. Abnormally high levels of creatinine thus warn of possible malfunction or failure of the kidneys.
> 
> *Diuretic: medication that increases the amount of fluid excreted by the kidneys; used when there is excess fluid buildup and allows the kidneys to excrete the fluid increase of filtering it and putting it back into circulation.
> 
> *NG tube: Nasogastric intubation is a medical process involving the insertion of a plastic tube (nasogastric tubeor NG tube) through the nose, past the throat, and down into the stomach. This enables you to drain gastric contents and decompress the stomach.
> 
> *ED tube: Endotracheal intubation; a medical procedure in which a tube is placed into the windpipe (trachea) through the mouth or nose. In most emergency situations, it is placed through the mouth.


End file.
